RobinM

Welcome from LI, NY!

Thank you for loving her until the end. She sounds like a very sweet girl. She died knowing she was loved.

Oh Heather- I am just seeing this. I am so sorry. What a lady she was. Strong and mighty. God Speed Quilty.

What she said. We are ll for you. Hugs/

A lot of good advice. Chad really summed it up. If you can, go for a pair of returned dogs who otherwise would more than likely be seperated. Having someone like you come a long for them would be just an awesome thing to do.So many returns due to the ecomony.

I see a a walkie in Darrell's future!

I wouldn't take him to meet and greet with kids and if you do, no petting just looking. Otherwise, this could be an accident waiting to happen. I'd also take him for a full senior panel to rule out anything medical.

OMG. So luckjy. My Elsie is so rain phobic... long before the thunder starts she is jumping out of her skin. I personally would never allow her out of the house without a lease attached to her. You were so very lucky this time. 10mg of valium works but you may want to try the storm defender cape before you resort to the meds. It is suppossed to work and if not, it's a money back guarantee. You can't lose trying it.

Beau has had doxy many times and no effects like you are describing. I too would try the pepcid and see if that helps.

Keeping Larry in my thoughts.

My heart is breaking along with both of you. I am so sorry.

GOD SPEED STAR, I am so sorry.

Make sure you put it in capsules as this is a vile tasting med and could make her stop eating. We used it for Beau when we were trying to figure wth was going on with him and it did not work. but only because it was IBD and until he was on a steriod and limited diet, nothing would have worked.

That' s it in a nutshell. We walk about a mile before we leave for work, a mile when we get home from work and 1/2 later in the evening. They have all the play time they want in the fenced in backyard BUT if "woman" is not there to entertain, they will do their business and run right back in. Every once in a while, Teddy will lay out on the deck on a cushion that's out there and get some sun. My pack thinks they were brought here to be served... by me. I wonder why.

Beautiful dog, greyt name and believe me, after 2 months, he is no where near settled in. The fun hasn't started yet. He will keep swelling your heart with love month after month!!! Have fun and enjoy!

Oh Riley... you are missed so. He approves. Fun Free Sweetie.

Our daily. Keep in mind not all our dogs will go out at the same time. We do multiple door openings, in fact, we have thought of putting in a remote door! 7AM -first out- if we weren't woken earlier by one of them to go out. 7:15- 7:30 breakfast Out after breakfast I leave for work and DH takes them for a mile walk. He lets them out right before he leaves wich is normally about 8:45 AM. Out at 3:30 -4pm. Walk before dinner. Dinner at 5ish out after dinner Walk and or out about 8:30. Last out at 11PM.

Oh man. I am so sorry. That's what happened to my baby girl Polli- it fractured and we had to make a drastic decision. Prayers for you all.

I am really happy you did not adopt my Beau who is a screamer by nature. He lets out the GSOD for everything. Touching his paws? I just don't do it. If I do, he will snap at me. And Beau is the most loving, touchy, kisses like a paint brush up and down your face, tongue in your mouth and is just generally all over you. But touch his paws? NEVER. Even the groomer will not touch his nails. We have the vet do it. End of story. I hope you did your reading. Have you read this yet? Of all breeds of dogs, the ex-racing Greyhound has never had to be responsible for anything in his life. His whole existence has been a dog-centered one. This breed has never been asked to do anything for itself, make any decisions or answer any questions. It has been waited on, paw and tail. The only prohibition in a racing Greyhound's life is not to get into a fight----------------or eat certain stuff in the turn out pen. Let us review a little. From weaning until you go away for schooling, at probably a year and a half, you eat, grow and run around with your siblings. When you go away to begin your racing career, you get your own "apartment," in a large housing development. No one is allowed in your bed but you, and when you are in there, no one can touch you, without plenty of warning. Someone hears a vehicle drive up, or the kennel door being unlocked. The light switches are flipped on. The loud mouths in residence, and there always are some, begin to bark or howl. You are wide awake by the time the human opens your door to turn you out. A Greyhound has never been touched while he was asleep. You eat when you are fed, usually on a strict schedule. No one asks if you are hungry or what you want to eat. You are never told not to eat any food within your reach. No one ever touches your bowl while you are eating. You are not to be disturbed because it is important you clean your plate. You are not asked if you have to "go outside." You are placed in a turn out pen and it isn't long before you get the idea of what you are supposed to do while you are out there. Unless you really get out of hand, you may chase, rough house and put your feet on everyone and every thing else. The only humans you know are the "waiters" who feed you, and the "restroom attendants" who turn you out to go to the bathroom. Respect people? Surely you jest. No one comes into or goes out of your kennel without your knowledge. You are all seeing; all knowing. There are no surprises, day in and day out. The only thing it is ever hoped you will do is win, place or show, and that you don't have much control over. It is in your blood, it is in your heart, it is in your fate-- or it is not. And when it is not, then suddenly you are expected to be a civilized person in a fur coat. But people don't realize you may not even speak English. Some of you don't even know your names, because you didn't need to. You were not asked or told to do anything as an individual; you were always part of the "condo association?; the sorority or fraternity and everyone did everything together, as a group or pack. The only time you did anything as an individual is when you schooled or raced, and even then, You Were Not Alone. In my "mobile abode," the Greyhounds each have several unique names, but they also have a single common name: it is Everybody. We continue to do things as a group, pack or as we are affectionately known in-house, by Kathleen's Husbandit, "The Thundering Herd." Back to those who have not been permanently homed. Suddenly, he is expected to behave himself in places he's never been taught how to act. He is expected to take responsibility for saying when he needs to go outside, to come when he is called, not to get on some or all of the furniture, and to not eat food off counters and tables. He is dropped in a world that is not his, and totally without warning, at that. Almost everything he does is wrong. Suddenly he is a minority. Now he is just a pet. He is unemployed, in a place where people expect him to know the rules and the schedule, even when there aren't any. (How many times have you heard someone say, "He won't tell me when he has to go out." What kind of schedule is that?) Have you heard the joke about the dog who says, "My name is No-No Bad Dog. What's yours?" To me that is not even funny. All the protective barriers are gone. There is no more warning before something happens. There is no more strength in numbers. He wakes up with a monster human face two inches from his. (With some people's breath, this could scare Godzilla.) Why should he not, believe that this "someone," who has crept up on him, isn't going to eat him for lunch? (I really do have to ask you ladies to consider how you would react if someone you barely knew crawled up on you while you were asleep?) No, I will not ask for any male input. Now he is left alone, for the first time in his life, in a strange place, with no idea of what will happen or how long it will be before someone comes to him again. If he is not crated, he may go though walls, windows or over fences, desperately seeking something familiar, something with which to reconnect his life. If he does get free, he will find the familiarity, within himself: the adrenaline high, the wind in his ears, the blood pulsing and racing though his heart once again--until he crashes into a car. Often, the first contact with his new family is punishment, something he's never had before, something he doesn't understand now, especially in the middle of the rest of the chaos. And worst of all, what are the most common human reactions to misbehavior? We live in a violent society, where the answer to any irritation is a slap, punch, kick, whip, or rub your nose in it. Under these circumstances, sometimes I think any successful adoption is a miracle. He is, in effect, expected to have all the manners of at least a six-year old child. But, how many of you would leave an unfamiliar six-year old human alone and loose in your home for hours at a time and not expect to find who knows what when you got back? Consider that if you did, you could be brought up on charges of child abuse, neglect and endangerment. Yet, people do this to Greyhounds and this is often the reason for so many returns. How many dogs have been returned because they did not know how to tell the adoptor when they had to go out? How many for jumping on people, getting on furniture, counter surfing, separation anxiety, or defensive actions due to being startled or hurt (aka growling or biting)? So, let's understand: Sometimes it is the dog's "fault" he cannot fit in. He is not equipped with the social skills of a six-year old human. But with your love and help, you can make it happen.

My crazy biotch Chloe was the type of dog you are describing. She bonded to me but my DH had to approach her on his hands and knees( her level) for MONTHS. She would hide in her crate when he approached so he would sit by her crate, door open and read or play on the laptop and throw small pieces of cookies in. Today, Chloe is our resident crazy BIOTCH. She is wild and fun and she just needed the time she needed to come around. you need to have lots of love and patience. That's the name of the game.

I am so sorry.

I am so sorry for the loss of you very sweet kitty.

I am so sorry to hear about you very beautiful boy, Spencer. God Speed Spencer.

We have moleskin on all muzzles. No boo boos allowed!

I am sorry Jordan. You have had a heck of a year. God Speed Jared.